Spilled Beers
by Ember Lee
Summary: He shouldn't be here. He shouldn't be staring, reminiscing, wishing. But she still had the allure over him. Inspired by the song 'Dancing On My Own'


**Spilled Beers**

Inspired by the song 'Dancing on My Own'

It was hard to believe life had gone this way. Never in a thousand years did he think he'd be lurking in the corner of a bar, watching his old flame grind up on another guy. Swirling the melted ice around his cup a bit, Marco tried his hardest not to stare, but the way they were moving just kept drawing his eye. It was just so…wow.

Pulling at his collar a little, he turned his back on the pair, awkwardly gulping down his whiskey and berating himself for coming here with every harsh swallow. He should have listened to Janna. The one time she actually gives him some solid advice and he chose not to take it. But, in his defense, it was _Janna._ He learnt long ago that everything that girl said had to be taken with a grain of salt. And he had listened, really, but the temptation dancing just behind him now had been too strong to ignore. She always had been. The girl he had pined after for years, the girl who one day noticed him standing amongst the crowd of suitors, who had smiled at _him_ , made his feel like his world was ablaze. The girl that had strung him along for years, led him to buy a ring and the promises of a shared life together, only to leave it tucked into an envelope with her set keys on their apartment's doorstep three weeks before the big day.

Marco had dealt with heartbreak before, though that day had been the only time he had cried with so much anguish. His parents had found him curled up in her jersey, her brief note about the sea calling her name screwed up in the bin while the last drops of booze he had left in the bottle stained the edges. It had taken a long time for him to be coaxed out of his depression. He knew his friends and family worried about him over that first year as he took to alcohol and reclusiveness to numb the pain. They had really panicked though when he decided that he was too numb and needed to feel pain again to reinforce he was still alive. Every bar fight, every back street brawl, every underground boxing match, he wore those bruises and cuts as badges, proof that he was still breathing (despite some broken ribs). It had been Janna that had surprisingly snapped him out of it, signing him up for life groups and eventually karate lessons once he started showing signs of recovery. He began to find a sense of life again, choosing to spend it with the ones who still cared and trying to make it up to them for being such a dick. Most had forgiven him, saying it was understandable he had gone on such a rampage, but Janna still called him an asshat. A title he begrudgingly bore. Maybe that's why she told him about Jackie. It had been years now but maybe she was testing him to see if he really was as over it as he liked to believe.

She would kill him if she knew he was here right now.

Putting down the empty glass, Marco turned slightly to look back at the pair still heating it up on the dance floor. Jackie hadn't changed but it was kind of hard to tell under the harsh club lighting. Sure she looked a little tanner and a little taller, but aside from that, same short blonde hair, same sense of style, same laugh. It was a little refreshing actually; to know that at least one thing in his past was still the same.

Signalling to the bartender for another drink, he watched as her partner twirled her around playfully, making her skirt fly and her eyes crinkle in delight. It pained a little to see, but he was surprisingly okay with it. She looked happy. Why shouldn't she be happy?

"You know, you've been staring at that girl all night. Should I be concerned?" The arrival of his new drink sloshing down at his right was accompanied by the bar tender, her eyebrow quirked suspiciously. Accepting his spilled drink, Marco grinned sheepishly and shook his head.

"Oh, no, sorry. It's just…." He trailed off, catching sight of the two kissing each other lovingly. Ok. Maybe it hurt a little more than he thought.

"Exgirlfriend?"

"Uh, yeah. Ex fiancée." He choked, unable to tear his gaze away from the two. The girl hummed in sympathy, wiping up the excess alcohol.

"She looks happy out there." She commented, though the warning laced within it was recognizable.

"Yeah she does, doesn't she?" he sighed, sipping at his drink. Something in his tone must have struck the girl as she put down the cloth and leaned against the bar, watching the pair with him.

"I clean up more than just spilled beer you know." She murmured casually, "if you want to share, I'll be here all night." She let her words sink in for a moment before straightening up to serve another customer, leaving Marco to ponder. Originally he had come to confront Jackie. To get the answers he had always known but needed confirmed. But it was useless. She hadn't even noticed him standing there all night, and if she had, she wasn't showing it. All this night was achieving was making him look like a complete stalker. But, he just needed to _see_ her.

He stood there for a while longer, contemplating what to do when suddenly the music died down the lights came back on. He continued to stand there, squinting in the harsh lights as the crowd began to leave, panicking that he would finally be spotted. But it never happened. He watched as she took her new lover's hand in hers and happily left the bar, not once looking in his direction. His opportunity to get some answers slowly disappearing with three, four, five steps…gone. Swallowed by the crowd. Putting down his glass, he sighed and ran a tired hand through his hair, confused as to what had really happened.

"I see you're still here."

The girl from before was back, leaning in the same spot as she watched him with concern. The rest of the staff were slowly starting to clean up the bar, reminding him of how late it was.

"Yeah, sorry. Got lost in memories. I-I'll go now." He stammered, sulking the last of his drink before turning to leave.

"You can talk to me about it if you want. Remember, I clean up more than spilled drinks."

He stopped, unsure as to what to do. He had done enough reminiscing tonight, but the outside was Jackie, probably waiting for a taxi or hiding in some alleyway with her friend. Inside was a stranger and more alcohol than he should want, but it was an unbiased ear to listen to his woes. She looked tired, her blonde hair slowly falling out of its bun, her uniform stained with alcohol and aioli, and she looked like she should be tucked up in bed instead of listening to him, but here she was. Turning back to the bar, he took a seat.

She grinned casually and pushed a fresh glass towards him, propping an elbow under her chin for support.

"So tell me stranger. What's troubling you?"


End file.
